Henzai
by NitrogenFixation
Summary: Yuugi learns not to fear while Yami struggles to believe. / Introspective drabble, symbolism.


**Henzai**

He'd had companions, once.

So he thought, anyway - he couldn't really remember, but some part of him sharply insisted that he would rather his memory remain foggy at best. He was never very aware of who he was - _what_ or _where_ he was, even - but he was always aware of the burning insanity crushing at the edges of his sentience, the tempest of rage and sorrow and loneliness and straining to reach and _remember what Godforsaken Hell his past had been_. He always felt the rush of vengeance and fury and the raw injury of betrayal, but the hurt always succumbed to his rage -

And eventually his rage just became maelstroms of insanity, until he couldn't quite separate himself from the darkness anymore. It was all he knew.

He knew very well that he had been betrayed - hurt. That he had been a broken boy, once, because he let friendship rule his steps. He had chosen to _trust_, to _rely_; he had chosen to _believe_ in his companions. They had failed, just like those who had come before them, just like those who could come after them. They had _failed_ him, _betrayed_ his trust, and never could any uphold it. Humans were worthless to rely on, to love, to cherish; they would betray you at the first difficult step. No, he could not remain loyal to those who called themselves his friends, nor they to him. Only the truly worthy would be justified to him - whether worthy by their evil or by their good.

Even the darkness itself remained unjustified in his sight, a field of operation for both the good and evil of souls, a shelter to the meek and homeless, and a curtain for the villains of night. No, the darkness, though it haunted his every step, was not loyal; was not consistent.

He saw only consistency in the games. The rules did not change. The right and the wrong did not change. The people changed, but his games never changed - the strategies could always be executed as flawlessly as strategies allow; the roll and draw were always based on luck. His games never lied to him. His games never betrayed him, never once. The players, they lied, they cheated, they played on falsities, preyed on weaknesses; but the games were innocent, free of that sin and hurt and betrayal. Games did not decide the right or the good; they merely decided the victor.

He had never lost a game. He would never allow it.

-x-

He didn't like being lonely.

It was something he was familiar with - the strange, empty feeling that grew in his chest when he accomplished something and no one was there to see it. The melancholy that accompanied it would press on his psyche and leave a painful cold in its wake, and a need for something - _anything_ - to fill the empty space in his ribcage, to rest comfortingly, warmly, at the edges of his mind, ever-present, if only in his head.

He had friends sometimes, but they never stayed; they drifted, and their minds drifted, and _he_ drifted and faded and soon he'd be nothing but a shadow of a memory with a name.

He'd never forgotten them, though. He remembered all those who walked away from him, who were drifting in front of him, away from him, passing him by. He knew that they wouldn't stay. He tried not to think about it too much, though - because if he did, his lungs and heart and chest would empty and his eyes would dull with melancholy even as he smiled and laughed as well as he could to a joke they told. They wouldn't remain long; they never did.

Even his games seemed unreliable - he never liked playing them by himself. Games weren't made to be played alone. Yet so often, he found himself winning multi-level chess against himself, or playing all the pieces of various other games.

He knew there was a small measure of his sanity that was being eaten away by the raw _loneliness_. He sometimes thought the shadows were keeping him company, flickering dimly around him. He never dared to turn on the light when he was alone at night, the restlessness and pain of his body keeping sleep a distant wish; he feared that his only company would flee from it, and their warm, strange shifting would halt, and he would be _all alone_...again.

The shadows, they had always been his company. They were there in the dark as he occupied his mind with his games, with his puzzles, with _anything_ but the tormenting feeling of incompleteness that slowly ripped away every piece of his soul. He never turned on the lights if he didn't have to. He knew there were always shadows cast, even in the light, but he never lost his fear - that one day, the light would encompass him, and he would be left without his only companion.

The shadows never left him. He would never allow it.

* * *

_Title:_ "Henzai" is the Japanese word for "Omnipresence." I'm sure you can figure out why it's named as such.

**A/N:** Seem out-of-character? It may be. I'm just testing waters, really, so characterization may be a little off. This may be redone one day if I feel that it's not good enough once I'm more experienced writing for YGO because I really do love this idea.

And...Yami wasn't really betrayed by all his friends (that I know of), but when you're trapped in a puzzle for several thousand years, you start to develop trust issues, especially since none of your friends helped you and you don't understand why, or remember why you were there, who your friends were, or pretty much anything at all. He's also half-insane at this point. He doesn't know what to feel, or why he feels what he _does_ feel.

Timeline-wise, there's no particular set time or set continuity. It'd be very, very early in the manga or season 0, and pre-series for Duel Monsters anime (right after the completion of the Puzzle, I'd guess).

Funny bit of info: I was aiming for both halves to be roughly similar lengths because I didn't want Yami's to be 423 and Yuugi's to be 201 or something, and what would you know, _both_ were _exactly_ 417 words when I used the word count. I found this incredibly amusing.

Please review or be Mind Crushed!

- Nitro


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